


i was born sick, but i love it

by zenturies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dysfunctional Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Sad Liam, Sad Zayn, Seventeen year old!Zayn, Twenty two year old!Liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6227764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenturies/pseuds/zenturies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's the fire. Zayn's the fuel.</p>
<p>Or, the one in which, Liam's a little misunderstood with a terrible habit of hiding his feelings, but Zayn — Zayn knows Liam better than Liam knows himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i was born sick, but i love it

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wrote this in an attempt to cure my writers block but truthfully? It was just an excuse to write angst, somewhat-of-a-dysfunctional relationship, seventeen year old!Zayn and badboy!Liam. Honestly, this could've easily turned into a 50k monster and took over my life but I didn't allow it. I'm not a hundred percent content with it, but I'm kinda happy with the ending? Eh.
> 
> Dedicated to Devon, because I know how much you love dysfunctional relationship AUs. You've been my rock through thick and thin and I love you very, very much.
> 
> P.S If there's any mistakes, I apologise in advance. Also, here in the UK, the legal age for sex is sixteen, so Zayn technically wouldn't be considered underage. However, I'm aware that it's different on a worldwide scale. Anyway, I hope some of you find joy in this 'cause I'm still searching for it.
> 
> P.S.S Title taken from Take Me To Church by Hozier.

If there's one thing that Zayn's learned over the course of dating Liam, it's the fact that Liam's the type of bloke his mother warned him about on a Thursday afternoon. Two days after his seventeenth birthday and four days before he'd meet the man who'd show him that the galaxy adventure swirling around in his brain had been at the brim of his fingertips from the moment he was born. He just hadn't pushed timidness aside, reached far enough to grab it, make it his own.

Liam's everything Zayn shouldn't love. He's everything Zayn should be petrified of. He's deviously reckless, cunningly mischievous, an over thinker with a kaleidoscope of divergent intentions. But most of all, he's a risk chaser with an educated mouth and a wicked mind. 

It makes Zayn's blood fizz with the kind of godforsaken fear that should be illegal in every state, every country, every town. 

( Even if it was illegal, he'd still be addicted to everything Liam is — so much so, he'd be willing to break the law if it meant he'd get to feel Liam's lips against his own. Because Liam's the drug Zayn can't quite find a cure for. )

He remembers when they were gracious golden a few months ago, tucked beneath city streetlights and too in love to notice anyone or anything else around them. He remembers when Liam would take him out to a shabby, dimly lit pub downtown, fake ID fooling the bouncers. He'd how him off to a couple of his friends, make polite conversation, ramble about nothing particularly interesting. Then Liam would get him drunk on a collection of bittersweet alcoholic drinks because Zayn was far too focused on being innocent, overcrowded with youthful thoughts.

And when it all became too much, when the room started twirling, swirling, that's when Liam would step in, save him with the dizzying sensation of his tongue flicking across the roof of Zayn's mouth, proprietorial hands clutching his hips and the type of fanatical stare that felt like ice nipping at his soul. He liked it. Loved it. Craved it.

Zayn hadn't known it back then, but Liam was unknowingly creeping his way into every vein in his body. He was clinging to Zayn's heart, had ( and still has ) his fingers wrapped around it, ready to wrench it out of his chest at any given moment. Liam has a track record of being menacingly unpredictable, but he's the song stuck in Zayn's head, playing on repeat, going round in circles, until the universe spins sickeningly around him. Zayn wouldn't — _couldn't_  — have it any other way.

Now, they're broken bronze. Cracked at the surface of dysfunctional and skirting along the pathway of being _just fine_. Though, _just fine's_ never enough because Liam tells him little white lies from pretty lips and Zayn remains fascinated.

He hadn't meant for Liam to become a bad habit. One that he can't rid himself of, no matter how much he tries, not even when his blood runs cold and Liam kisses his knuckles seconds before he skims them across Zayn's jaw, eyes distant, abroad, isolated from reality.

Zayn wonders when Liam lost himself. He wonders how it happened and how Liam became twenty shades darker of his former self.

He wonders a lot of things about Liam.

He never asks.

* * *

Seventeen years old, wet candy coloured lips, hallowed cheeks and watery hazel hues. There's an agonizing ache in his knees, journeying all the way up to the the knobs of his spine, pivoting and road-tripping back down again. He's got his mouth wrapped around Liam's cock, jaw locked, thin fingers curved around what his mouth is unfortunately unable to reach.

The soft fabric of his — _Liam's_  — jumper has fallen slightly, crumpled halfway down his upper arm. It's baggy, loose on his slender torso and ends halfway along his thighs, but hell, it feels amazingly tender against his skin and Liam's natural scent has embedded itself into the material so he doesn't have room to complain.

( It's like Liam's there, even when he's gone. )

That's his current state.

Above him, Liam has his legs spread, ripped-at-the-knees jeans in a wrinkled mess at the bottom of his ankles because he'd been eager. Tumbled through the door of their affordable studio apartment with a huff leaving his lips, along with the cig he'd forced between Zayn's own without giving him much of a say and then —

" _You're gonna get on your knees, suck me off like the good little slut you are for me_."

And Zayn had responded with a pathetic whine.

It'd been a whirlwind after that. Zayn hadn't even bothered inhaling the cigarette because the moisture in his throat evaporated, became dry, words long forgotten. He'd stubbed the cigarette out in the dirty ashtray that was perched on top of the counter before Liam had hauled him towards their worn-out sofa that belonged to Louis months prior to them moving in. He'd managed to tug Liam's pants down when Liam's fingers combed themselves through Zayn's hair, lowering his head.

He's been on his knees for a little longer than fifteen minutes, but he's desperate to get Liam off — has a quiet yearning for Liam's come dripping from his tongue, from his lips, anywhere on his face, really. Maybe that's why he sucks harder, licks over the slit of Liam's dick, moans around his tip at the taste. 

"If you make me come in the next five minutes, I'll buy you that shirt from River Island you were eyein' the other day," Liam tells him, his voice low, deep, wobbly, like he's holding back the groans gathering in his throat. 

Zayn pulls off, peers up at Liam with a straight face as his hand tightens, works over Liam's dick a bit faster. "You mean _steal_ , babe?"

Liam rolls his eyes, threads his fingers through Zayn's hair and lifts his hips. "Wrap those pretty lips around my cock 'nd get back to work, yeah?"

Zayn knows Liam's waiting for him to protest, put up a fight he'd surely lose because the shirt he'd seen had been a fast seller. He also knows Liam won't purchase it like the majority of their clothing or decorations around his apartment. He'd scratch at his wit, get in touch with his wrongful ways, and the shirt would be in Zayn's hands in no time.

( He despised Liam shoplifting at first. Told him that he'd leave if he didn't stop. Liam had laughed in his face, hustled him against the wall and told him he'd stay. The way Liam fucked him that night had left a burn in Zayn's bones for days. )

Zayn envelopes his lips around Liam again, places his free hand on his thigh and goes back to work. He bobs his head, glides his tongue along the junction of Liam's shaft, swirls his tongue at the tip, and flat out moans at the taste of Liam's pre-come lingering in the midst of his tongue after he swallows.

"You look perfect like this, baby," Liam coos and out of the corner of his eye, Zayn can see Liam's left hand resting on the couch, twisting the material of the armrest.

Zayn hums around his cock in response, forces himself to take Liam further into his mouth. Not a lot. Just a bit. Enough to make Liam's hips rock upwards. He reaches down, cupping himself to lessen the ache that's building, spreading through his arteries and settling in his groin like wildfire. All because of Liam.

"Your lips were made for suckin' me off. It's kinda mental, like, how fuckin' good you look right now," Liam remarks, closes his eyes and by the way his chest is moving, his breathing transforming from relaxed to heavy, Zayn can tell he's getting close and that's what makes the movement of his head speed up, what makes his mouth tighten, and what makes his hand tense, fingers quivering against his cock. He wants Liam to come — needs him to come.

He shuffles closer to Liam, his legs indenting the couch in front of him, but he doesn't care that it scratches roughly at his bare skin. Can't because Liam's moaning, hoisting his hips, gripping onto the black strands of Zayn's wild hair, curling his fingers.

"Pull off, wanna come on your lips, c'mon, _Zayn_ ," Liam babbles, peeking down at him as Zayn slowly pulls off, his hand loosening for a moment or two until he's tipping his head forward, hand going straight back to work because he needs this. Liam needs this.

Zayn's surprised when Liam places a hand over his own because he isn't looking at him. He's got his head tilted backwards, neck bent, adam's apple popping out and if Zayn could, he'd crawl up, bite on his neck until a patch of his skin was black and blue and Liam was proud of him for marking him as his own.

Liam comes with a husky moan, Zayn's name drizzling from his tongue, the fingers of his right hand in Zayn's hair and the sharp nails of his left hand digging into Zayn's own, breaking the skin, tempting a small amount of blood to seep through as he spills out onto the boy's mouth.

The smirk that sneaks over the edges of Zayn's lips could be considered sinister, if it wasn't for the childish eyes staring back at Liam, wide and beaming with come on his lips, dribbling down his chin. His tongue pokes out, swipes across his lower lip, groans at the familiar taste.

"Stay like that," Liam demands abruptly, grabbing his phone from the armrest.

He snaps a picture of Zayn with come on his face and happiness in his eyes. 

Zayn sees the surge of happiness sparking at Liam's features, glazing over his eyes; the perks of being observant. It's swift, hesitant, and disappears faster than it came. But it happened. It was there. Liam's happy.

"So." Zayn says, his tongue assembling the sticky white liquid from his lips. He swallows, like the good boy he is, and wipes away the residue, the come his tongue can't reach on his chin, with the sleeve of his sweater. "You gonna tell me what's got you so fucked, Li?"

Liam reaches down, tugs his jeans back up his legs, doesn't spare Zayn a three second glance. "Grown up stuff, Zayn. You wouldn't understand."

By that, Zayn knows Liam means something illegal.

( He loves him too much to give a damn anymore. If Liam wants to do something, he'll do it, regardless of the consequences. )

Instead of interrogating him further, Zayn huffs at that, ignores the intense ache of his own cock curved against his stomach. "I understand a lot more than you think."

"Never said you didn't, babe," Liam says, raises to his feet and takes off towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Zayn questions, silently refusing to tear his gaze away from Liam.

The bloke with a guarded heart and an obsession with driving too fast. Even with Zayn cruising in the passenger seat.

Liam pauses, places his broad hand on the door frame, nodding in the direction of the bathroom whilst looking over his shoulder. "I'm gonna shower— you comin' or what, darling?"

It's stupid how bright Zayn's face lights up and it's absolutely ridiculous how fast he darts into the bathroom, Liam's jumper on the floor within seconds, replaced with the delicious sensation of Liam's hands floating over his skin.

Showering with Liam is his second favourite thing.

His first favourite thing? Liam.

Because Zayn doesn't fail to see the good in him behind all the various brands of cigarettes he smokes. Behind all the ominous glares and a sloppy kiss with a clenched fist punching the closest wall whenever Zayn takes it upon himself to daringly provoke everything Liam thought he was doing so well at concealing.

Zayn makes Liam weak. Anyone can see that from planets away.

Liam's the fire. Zayn's the fuel.

If they want to go up in a fury of possessive flames, then so be it.

 

Liam's lips taste like sweet, sweet cherryade when they're laying in bed that night. Probably because he'd guzzled two whole bottles an hour before.

Zayn can't get enough. He kisses Liam until black and white transforms into lilac and dark purple and every other colour in between. Liam groans, moans, takes it like a bad man with the good lips should.

But when Zayn wakes up, at the inhumanly hour of four o'clock in the morning, Liam's gone.

 

Liam returns at eleven o'clock reeking of gasoline and budget beer. He shoves Zayn against the fridge and attempts to kiss the doubts away.

They don't vanish quite so easily this time.

Zayn lets Liam bend him over the kitchen counter, anyway. Lets Liam fuck him viciously, tenderly, softly until he's begging for Liam's lips on his neck and his hand around his dick.

It's moments like that remind Zayn of who's in charge. Liam makes him just as weak, despite the darkness looming around them. Though, he's positive Liam loves the darkness just as much as he does.

* * *

 "Where were you?"

A silhouette slowly comes into view, stiff shoulders and a cig between his index and middle finger. The horrible lighting emitting from the lamp sitting in the corner sprints shadows along the wooden floor of their makeshift living room as Liam moves towards Zayn.

"Out," Liam mumbles, chucking the lighter down onto the coffee table. His voice sounds disembodied, like he isn't fully there. Zayn wonders if Liam's been smoking a lot more than the low-priced Mayfair he robs from the corner shop. He decides against it when Liam offers a glimpse of his eyes whilst shrugging off his jacket.

Zayn waits, picks at a loose thread hanging from his jeans. "Where?" 

Liam pauses, inhales the cancer stick between his lips before muttering out a nearly inaudible, "Outside. Inside."

Zayn raises a brow, bites down on the inside of his cheek in order to prevent the sigh threatening to filter from his lips. He's sick of holding back, but—

Liam's swift to cut him short after he exhales, watching the smoke float into the air. "You don't believe me, man?"

"Do you care if I don't?" Zayn asks, cocking his head to the side. He's trying to look devilish, something Liam's an expert at. Maybe that's because he's had enough practice to put the real devil to shame.

Liam chuckles, sets the cig in the ashtray and flings his leather jacket onto the empty space of the couch next to Zayn. "Do you think I do?"

Zayn's got his gaze bonded to Liam, glued to him like a dog to a bone. "I think you care about a lot of things— me included."

Liam slants his own head to the side then. "You think you're _that_ special, angel?" He ponders, surveying Zayn from head to toe as the smaller male stands from the sofa.

Zayn would feel alarmed if he wasn't used to Liam and his intense stares. If anything, they set ablaze the adrenaline he doesn't get to feel often because Liam's too damn protective.

"To you, yeah," Zayn nods, keeps his head held high when Liam stalks forward, a terrorizing glint in his eyes. It escalates across his features, dancing into something that could be related to fearless intimidation.

"What makes you think I haven't got someone else on the side?" Liam quizzes, skates the edges of his fingers along Zayn's jaw and for a second, Zayn loses his composure. He falls in love a little more with a single touch, a single stare, a single beating heart. "What makes you think I'm not in between some fucked up person's legs when I'm not in between yours, hm?"

Zayn swallows the lump rallying in his throat and suddenly, Liam's fingers don't feel so warm anymore. "'Cause if you were, you wouldn't come back to me. And you wouldn't look at me the way you do."

Liam's face softens as his hand retreats, lips parting to speak. "What way do I look at you?"

"You look at me like I'm the only thing that makes sense in your life." Zayn begins, mentally battles with his inner demons, his tears not to make an appearance because Liam's played with his feelings more than he can count on one hand and still, Zayn stays, stuck in Liam's insane life. Maybe he likes it. Maybe he's the definition of an addict who doesn't want an antidote to kill the poison. "Like I'm everything you've been waiting for 'cause everything you _had_ — everything you _have_ , outside of these four walls, isn't enough. Louis isn't enough. Niall isn't enough. The weed isn't enough. You look at me like I make you feel liberated for hours on end. Like I'm your kind of natural high. Like I make you feel free and comfortable. You look at me like you adore me, like I inspire you. Guess what? You inspire me too. You look at me like you're in love with me. You can say you don't give a fuck, but I know you do. I _know_."

Liam averts his gaze to the floor and Zayn's sure Liam's eyes are damp. He gulps, points towards the bed with a trembling finger to match his tremulous voice. "Strip. Lay on the bed— on your stomach. Spread your legs. I'm gonna show you how fuckin' careless I truly am."

Zayn does. And every time Liam licks over his hole, the tips of his fingers flexing against his hips to guarantee bruising, promising him that he won't be able to walk for weeks, Zayn swears he feels love flaming against his hot, hot skin.

Liam fucks him harder, quicker, makes him see stars that night. He fucks him with the promise of forever, with the promise of getting high together, with the promise of going joyriding and setting things on fire when Zayn's older. He fucks him with the hushed promise of creating invisible wounds that'll hurt more than gashes that bleed. He also fucks him with the promise of kissing them better.

Zayn knows he's ignited something deep within Liam. Something he won't be able to turn back from. Something that'll overwhelm him, drown him, make his mind fritz and heart hammer on overdrive.

Maybe, for once, _he'll_ be the song stuck in _Liam's_ head because everything good about them, battles with the elephant in the room that Liam has embracing him, brawls until the undeniable chemistry they've had since day one overtakes their connected souls and their lips lock in a fierce kiss. 

It doesn't matter how many times they destroy each other. It doesn't matter how many times Liam rolls a blunt and Zayn's looking up at him, head on his lap with a troupe of questions prodding at his brain, Liam's fingers in his hair, absurd compliments cascading from his mouth. It doesn't matter how many times Liam flirts with the opposite sex because Zayn knows Liam's always going to come back to him. Liam's always going to stumble through the door with lipstick staining his cheeks and smelling of revolting perfume. He's always going to wrap his arms around Zayn and scatter a series apologetic kisses along his skin when the world around them is nothing but a quiet buzz and they're drunk on nothing but each other. Because that's where home really is. 

They work through it. They always work through it.

( It dawns on Zayn one night, when Liam's asleep next to him, that he's the home Liam never had. He takes pride in that, yeah. )

* * *

Liam's the villain and Zayn's the willing victim.

Even if Liam doesn't admit it, even if he has trouble with confessing his feelings, Zayn sees the love in his eyes. 

It grows, intensifies, and they grow with it, months and years from the day they met.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr.](http://zzenturies.tumblr.com/)


End file.
